


Angels of Arson

by SirCakesALot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:31:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5945734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirCakesALot/pseuds/SirCakesALot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a police officer, Castiel is a journalist but they meet under unexpected circumstances. Castiel wants peace whilst Dean wants to watch the world burn.<br/>They both find solace in each other, yet they can never utter the truth. <br/>Dean cannot tell Castiel is his addicted to flames. Castiel cannot tell Dean he is addicted to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I always knew I was different. As a child, I heard voices. Staring into the depths of fire, hours blurred by. They were so close, so tantalizingly close. My body was not my own, I could never tear my eyes away. Voices crept through each flame, whispering inaudible little nothings. Yet I was still compelled, dragged towards the fire. To oblivion._

_A breath of fire kept me content. Kept me happy. When I reached my teenage years, it was harder to stay away. Staring into open flame was my drug, my addiction. No matter how hard I tried, it was always there. The need to look, to listen. Soon it grew to more._

_Gasoline scented my skin. It was all I could smell, no matter how hard I tried to scrub it away. It was there. My addiction caused an insatiable itch. Trying to tame my demons, the voices in the fire, was pointless. My weak mind collapsed, my senses fooling me. This power was ruling me, controlling me, pulling me back to fire. It was winning. This frightening obsession. When I was fifteen, I finally understood the flames._

_I burnt down my first house._

_It felt revitalizing. Ecstacy burnt through my veins, tainting my charred bloodstream. Nothing could beat this high. Nothing. So I only burnt more._

 

 

Contrary to popular belief, I had many 'friends'. Superficial items I clung to for social normalcy. Society views those who stick to themselves as strange, people with dark intent. So I leeched off of their kindness, their willingness to tolerate my whimsical nature. 

 

Flicking my lighter, a small flame spluttered to life as a silent scream formed. The cry for help, a plea for forgiveness, resonated off of the spark. Heat blossomed at my fingertips, a feeling I insatiably desired. Taking my thumb off the pale lighter, the screaming silenced, the death of the flame sending chills down my spine. Why did the sputtering of a flame affect me whilst watching a person choke on their last breath did not? 

 

Against my better judgment, I dropped my lighter, leaning across my office desk. Avoiding the pile of paperwork, unsolved cases that I had no motivation to close, I dug for my prescription tablets. These tablets were for my skin. My leg had been badly burnt when I was younger, damaging the flesh beyond repair. Where did they go? Opening my drawers now, panic blossomed in my stomach, unfurling painfully. Where were they? I am sick, I must be sick. My mother said I was. Not different, just sick. Where are my pills? The scarred tissue ached, calling out for the fire. I need my pills!

 

Slammimg my drawer shut, the metallic sound startled many. Fixing my badge in frustration, I heard the sheriff sigh. Footsteps echoed towards me as I slouched in my chair. Great, now I had my bosses attention.

 

"Officer Winchester, are you okay?" A gruff voice asked me and I meekly looked up. 

 

The sheriff looked down at me, grey hairs gracing his scalp, mingling with black hairs. His piercing brown eyes seemed weary with age, his hands shaking slightly. This man was my superior, the law in a sleepy town. Despite the large size of the town, violent activities hardly ever took place which is why such an overweight man could be in charge. Maybe he should see a doctor? That thought brought me back to the issue. He had asked me a question. He asked me about why I made such a loud commotion. Grimacing, I looked him in the eyes.

 

"Ah, sorry. I just cannot seem to find my tablets at all." I smiled sheepishly, my eyes wandering.

 

"Well try to keep it down a bit. It's early." He proceeded to rub his face for emphasis. "I don't even know why you need those things."

 

Nodding, I grabbed one of my files. This sleepy town didn't really need an active police station. Most of my files were about theft, something I personally didn't rank too highly. Ignoring the sheriff's statement about not knowing why I needed medication, I browsed through the file. 

 

Car theft, not something really thrilling. Casting that file to the side, I reached for another. Grabbing my lighter instead, I didn’t hesitate to light it. Looking at the flicker flame I felt my soul ignite. Losing myself to the flame, I longed for more. Lighting a fire place in the sweltering heat of summer was no longer working. Drawn to the whimpering in the flame, I was almost salavating from pleasure. Burning down this building would be great, almost perfect. Should I?

 

Someone burst into the station, startling everyone. Dropping the lighter, the fire died and so did my high. Jumping to my feet, my skin felt tense, paranoia licking my flesh.

 

"Officer Winchester, what did I say about all the noise!" The sheriff shouted, leaving his office. 

 

His eyes bulged at the sight of the ragged man in the station. One look at me was not sufficing as an apology, but I had to accept it.

 

"What do you need?" He asked as I picked up my lighter, flicking it on once more. I was not needed so I could lose myself in the flame. Sitting back down, I reached for a different file hoping for some form of excitement I may have previously missed.

 

"There is...I just need an officer. Please." The strange man breathed out and my ears perked up.

 

Why? Nothing ever happens in this boring town. I want in. Strangely enough, I felt like I needed it.

 

"Clarify that statement..." The sheriff began but I leapt from behind my desk, knocking over my small pile.

 

"I will assist. Sir, you need not concern yourself." I all but scrambled to the man, smiling wolfishly.

 

"Okay, you have officer Winchester to aid you in whatever it is you needed help with." The sheriff sighed and the man exhaled, still looking flustered.

 

Before he could bail, or ask for a different officer, I ushered him out of the station. Excitement trickled through me, but it was still nothing compared to the feeling of arson. I became a police officer to cover my arsonistic tendencies, not that I would tell anyone. Once outside and near my cruiser, I broke the uncomfortable silence surrounding us.

 

"Don't worry about the sheriff, he is an asshole who does not believe in medication. He was the one who probably threw out my tablets." I first spoke to assure them, but ended up realising why I couldn't find my expensive medication.

 

"Ah, well officer, that is..." He stumbled, trying to respond yet not knowing how to talk to a law enforcer.

 

Opening the back door for him in the cruiser, I just smiled knowingly. Shutting it after he clambered in, I went to the drivers seat. Making sure the car was in neutral, I started it before attempting conversation again.

 

"Just call me Dean if it makes it any easier." Reversing out, I looked at him briefly and caught him nodding, still in shock I believe. "Now tell me all about what you need, um, what is your name?"

 

Jamming the car in first, I started moving. Once on the open road, I shifted through the gears until the tacometre sat comfortably of two and a half thousand revvs. The man began to talk.

 

"Well, I hope you have an open mind." The blue eyed male said before clearing his throat. "It is in the abandoned water treatment plant just outside of town. Oh, and my given name is Castiel Novak."

 

An abandoned building I had yet to burn down. Sure I had set fire to the off buildings, but the plant itself was too large and potent with chemicals to safely burn without being caught. Still, I longed to feel the heat of that place going up in a blaze. Nodding my head absent mindedly, half lost to my own day dream, I continued to drive. Castiel was lost to some kind of awkward silence, my own heart skipping a beat in excitement yet my hands shook with doubt. His mere presence told me something big was happening, what, I do not know yet. I don't even know if it is something exciting.

 

What if he was just messing with me, building up my hopes for the sole purpose of crushing them? If so, I will personally demonstrate what happens when you piss the wrong person off. Better get them to squeal here to save fuel.

 

"So, Cas, what do you desperately require an officer for?" I asked.

 

"I need assistance." He replied, confusing me. 

 

"Um, okay then. Glad I was the chosen one." I laughed.

 

"So you accept." Castiel gasped, excitement suddenly rolling off him and my mood instantly soured.

 

"A what? Cas, you're not making a lot of sense right now."

 

"I will explain when we reach the water treatment plant." He said solemnly, and it was my duty to listen to the publics demands.

 

With the itch to burn something, anything, I decided to steal glances at this stranger to pass the time. To give my mind something else to process. 

 

Castiel had sharp blue eyes, complemented by black hair and faint black stubble. He wore a ridiculous trench coat with what appeared to be a suit underneath. I could not get a perfect examination due to the fact I had to drive, but he was incredibly attractive thus far.

 

Pulling up outside the water treatment plant, I stepped out of my police cruiser, wincing from the lack of Impala. Castiel appeared beside me, nodded and stood incredibly still. So whatever I wanted was not inside, I guess.

 

"Dean, my neighbour, Lucy, is in a abusive relationship." Castiel said with anger, and I forced the smirk off my face.

 

"Your neighbour? Then why are we here?" I asked, crossing my arms in frustration.

 

"Everytime I mention it near my house, nothing changes."

 

"Then how do I catch him in the act so to speak if no other cop has?" I responded. This was still far more interesting than theft.

 

"I did not think about that." Castiel seemed lost in thought, contemplating options.

 

"Well, while you think, I am going to grab something to eat." My words set something off in the man.

 

"That is it! Dean, you are having lunch with me."


	2. Dinner Is Not A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is nervous about the not date

Castiel's P.O.V

 

My plan had to work. If I heard Lucy's shrill screams one more time, I will go in there and deal with the problem myself. Despite my current occupation, I was in the army prior. I could handle one man who found strength beating a woman. Staring at the green eyed officer, he seemed to shift uncomfortably, looking at the water treatment plant with a sense of longing. Finally he brought his eyes back to me, unease showing through every movement.

 

"Look, I ah, don't think that is appropriate." He said wearily, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

"How is it not appropriate? It is the best way to stop this act of domestic violence." I was confused. 

 

How could he disagree? Maybe it was because the law enforcement here seemed to be almost like a second thought. Within my two weeks of having lived here, rumours were spread like wild fire and tainting my unwilling mind. This town had a small theft problem, no thanks to this officer, and the electricians are terrible. Or so they say. 

 

"I am working Cas. I cannot take a lunch date during work." He frowned, standing slightly taller.

 

Was he trying to intimidate me? Like he could even dream of harming me. And what did he mean by 'date'?

 

"Then you will come for dinner. I will not take no for an answer."

 

Dean didn't complain further. Instead, he opted to climb back into the car. Following him, I quickly clasped my seat belt and turned towards him slightly.

 

Although Lucy's situation is tragic, I was quite glad it was happening. Otherwise I would not have met Dean Winchester. This man was beyond attractive. Having these desires should feel wrong, but I felt myself physically drawn to his gaze. His short hair shone brown with hues of blond, green eyes shining through a splash of light freckles. Dean was beautiful. Or should I say handsome? Never before had my eyes been drawn to a man in such a way, leaving me conflicted.

 

"So Castiel, should I drop you back to your house?" He asked, breaking my thought. 

 

"No. I drove to the station. It would not be wise leaving my car even if it next to a place of law enforcement. This town has a theft problem." I told him, hinting that maybe he should solve such issues.

 

"I was not taken in to find who took what, Cas. My training is in other fields." Dean smiled, a laugh building in his features.

 

"Oh, okay. I believe I understand." I did not. Not at all.

 

He is employed under the government, paid to keep us safe. Should that not also mean stopping theft? 

 

Watching as he rolled his shoulders, his relaxed attitude ebbed away. Despite his easy smile, something was wrong. He seemed...torn? Maybe I shouldn't have pushed for him to have dinner with me. What if he just does not like me? Realising I was staring, I turned to look away.

 

Slowly the scenery ebbed away into familiarity. A strange notion passed through me. A sense of loss. Soon I would have to leave this stranger, risking that I may never see him again. His green eyes held torment, an untold story I wished to know. But that could just be my nature. As a journalist, I always want to know the full story. Dean was uncracked, a harsh exterior and a easy smile. Nothing about him sat right.

 

I was staring at him again. Dean cleared his throat, tapping the wheel to show his discomfort. 

 

"So you will definitely come tonight?" I found myself asking to break the tension, releaved when it did.

 

"Ah, fine. Just don't come back to the station. It is a place of work." He sounded exasperated, casting a side long glance before a grimace of pain over took him.

 

I chose to ignore it.

 

"Okay. If you show for dinner, I will never go to the police station." I pursed my lips, waiting for an affirmative response.

 

I received nothing. Maybe he just really doesn't like me? Despite my rash actions, I knew I came on too strong. I knew that I did. Yet, I couldn't change my ways. Society wanted me to adapt but I refused to be fake. 

 

Slowly I heard Dean sigh. The car rolled into the parking lot, coming to a halt before he turned to look at me. His green eyes were dull. Something had changed him, that much I could tell. Tearing my thoughts from his eyes, I focused on his words.

 

"Fine. I will do it." He nodded along with his own words, eye brows furrowed. "What time and where?"

 

"At six. That seems like an appropriate time and Lucy does not start screaming until 6:30pm usually. My house is number 3, Oakland Avenue." I told him and he grimaced over the mention of screaming.

 

"Okay. That gives me enough time to go to the doctors. I will see you then." He opened his door, swinging his legs out before I found my voice again.

 

"Doctor?" I questioned, opening my own door.

 

"Yeah. It is nothing bad or anything." Dean smiled reassuringly. "Well, you better go and I should sort through the 'chronic theft problem' this town has."

 

Smiling but not responding, I turned away from the man I just met. This beautiful creation of a man known as Dean Winchester was coming to my house for dinner. Although we both held alterior motives, it still felt like a date. Wait. How do I make this dinner casual? What ambience should the room have, what meal should be prepared. 

 

Climbing into my car, I stopped to watch Dean walk. Each foot fall was calculated with a sense of impatience. Dean was a riddle. A riddle I asked to dinner. What should I make for dinner?

 

With my mind consumed, I drove. When the station was in my rear-view mirror, I decided on a plan. Now just for it to come to life.

 

 

\----------------

 

A knock sounded on my door at exactly six. A giddy feeling rose in my chest, but I pushed it down as anxiety spiked. Finally I was going to stop a case of domestic violence, but would it work? Opening to door, I was confronted by Dean's appearance. Uniforms do not do him justice. 

 

Dressed in dark jeans, grey shirt and a leather jacket, he looked good. Better than good. An intricate necklace hung around his neck, a head of some sort, that stood out amongst the dark colours. Now I wished this was a date. Stepping aside so he could enter, I felt anxiety creep along my spine as he refused to make eye contact. Closing the door behind us, I tried not to deflate by a lack of hello. 

 

Attempting to walk past him calmly, I saw him raise his head slightly. He continued to stand awkwardly, yet neither of us could speak. Finally Dean broke the ice.

 

"Um, you look good. Really good." His smile made me feel good.

 

He was appreciating my appearance.

 

"You do to Dean." I lied.

 

I couldn’t bring myself to say that Dean was a otherworldly beauty. I couldn’t form the words to the poetry of his movements, the way sadness clung to his eyes nor could I find the words to seduce him into feeling the same. So I lamely walked to the kitchen to check on the lasagna I cared a bit too much about.


End file.
